Indiana Jones and the Union of Occupations
by STIG
Summary: Indiana is off to the ruins of the tomb of the Nubian king Heqa-ib... The only problem (so far) is that it's a field trip for his college class. Unfortunate kids - they don't know what's coming to them.
1. Duty and Departure

Disclaimer: I don't even know for SURE who does own the stuff. Suffice to say it isn't me.

Nothing much to say about this except "I really wish there were more good Indiana Jones stories out there, most of the ones I've found suck worse than this," and "Everybody should pay more attention to good humor," and my quote of the day, "I will do that… but first, I must buy more soap." Another good quote I was considering was, "My current dilemma: EGMIE (Every Good Movie Involves Explosions) VS. EMWEIG (Every Movie With Explosions Is Good)."

Thank you, KTfanfic, for reviewing! I now have created a plot! Yay! Hope you continue to read.

ADVERTISEMENT: Read my other fic, The Truth of all Demons! An enjoyable Pirates of the Caribbean/Princess Bride crossover! Hooray! Read! And if you don't want to bother, my wonderful reviews may suggest otherwise! I'm so proud of them! Check my profile! Enjoy! Or else! I mean, please!

CHAPTER ONE

Professor Henry Jones, Jr., was teaching his class about catacombs beneath Venice when the headmaster of Barnett College entered. Jones knew his stuff. The recently discovered find was being –

"Investigated by professional teams at this moment. An accidental fire caused damage to the site, but it is still clearly a Pagan tomb that was partially converted in the First Crusade, eleventh century; the Christians dug their own chambers where several knights were buried, including one with an inscription, in Latin, on his shield that seems to tell of a possible resting place of the -"

The bell rang. "Alright, I'll be in my office Thursday and Wednesday, but not Friday. If you have any questions just find me then." The class filed out with their books. The professor turned to the visitor.

"Hello, Mr. Crader."

"Good afternoon, - ah - Professor. It has been brought to my attention, - ah hem -_ several_ times, that you tend to… - hem - not be here at the school, _teaching_, all the time. You often – ah – go on _trips_ to archeological sites, is that right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well Jones, I have decided – hn hn – to allow you to _continue_ your – ah – _archeological _work, if – hem – you concede to bring – hem – your _students_ along, occasionally. You will retain your job teaching, if – ah – you allow your pupils to learn about the – ah – _nature_ of your field work. Of course, you will teach on this trip, but you will – ah hem – have time for your own _digging._"

The professor's face twitched. "Whatever you say, Headmaster."

The wizened little man left the classroom.

"Great."

* * *

Next week's class was just as bubbly as he came in the door as usual, giggling and chattering like elementary rather than college students. It silenced, however, when he shut the door.

The whole group chorused, "Hello Professor Jones!" Indiana sighed as he settled into his usual lecturing position behind his desk.

"Alright, everyone, I'm going to be honest with you. Last week Headmaster Crader told me that if I don't take you with me on my next expedition… Well, he'd fire me." There were some gasps at the thought of Professor Jones being fired, and a few exited smiles at the prospect of accompanying him. "So, next month you all have the opportunity to come and investigate the tomb of Heqa-ib, who was a Nubian pharaoh. You will all need to pay for half of the transportation, but the school will take care of the rest of that."

A hand rose. "Mr. Crader's willing to pay half for us? Just so you can keep your job?"

Jones grimaced. "Yes, he's paying half for the plane, but I get to take care of food, shelter, equipment… for _all _of you."

The class expressed their concern: "Thank you very much Professor Jones, don't know what we would do without you!"

"You're very welcome. Now, let's get started. We were at the catacombs under Venice, right?"

_

* * *

_

One month later, at the airport…

"Hey Professor Jones! Here we are!"

Indiana turned to the jubilant voices, finding that they belonged to his class – every one of them was present. They were hiding from the drizzle beneath two giant umbrellas, like a pair of mushrooms. Two very exited mushrooms. Indy, in his white shirt and khakis, didn't have an umbrella. He carried only a battered brown suitcase.

Striding towards the twenty or so undergraduates, Jones began, "Did you all manage to come? Uh, good. The plane almost empty except for us, so you won't have to sit on each other's laps -"

"I'd share a seat with you Professor!"

"Which you WON'T have to do, and we're leaving in ten minutes, so get yourselves on that plane. Leave your luggage outside."

A few girls sulked as they grasped their bags and the umbrellas began to migrate.

END OF CHAPTER ONE

Hope you all enjoyed. This is boring, and progressing rather quickly, because the story hasn't started yet. Don't worry, it'll all be good next chapter.

I will be updating from now on, until the tale is finished or I die, whichever actually ends up happening, every Sunday, including this week.


	2. Navigation and Nazis

Disclaimer: …. YOU SHOULD KNOW I DON'T OWN IT! It makes me cry…

No reviews! Come on!

I don't have anything against Germans. Just Nazis. If anyone is offended, well, why are you reading Indiana Jonesstuff? Not exactly pro-Nazi.

This is a short chapter. It represents the progress of the puzzle I'm putting together in my head. I call the puzzle "the Plot." It also represents the amazingly fulfilling chapter I just wrote on my other story, The Truth of all Demons. (hint hint)

CHAPTER TWO

Joanna had to stretch at the seat's safety belt to see Professor Jones over the man's expansive stomach. He kept glancing up at her from behind his magazine, too. She pulled the seatbelts to their greatest length, and held her neck as far out as she could, but even when the man exhaled (his mountainous, hard, lumpy midsection rose and fell with every wheeze; it reminded her of the hopping movement of the plane as it took off) all she could make out were the pinned hairstyles of the rest of the girls in the row, also staring at the Professor's seat. Joanna sat back and pushed her glasses up her nose.

Soon enough the rest of the class settled into their seats and began to fall asleep. Joanna took the opportunity and pulled away from the back of her chair again. _Rise… Fall… Skid-skip Rise… Fall…_ She lifted away from the cushion. The famed archeologist had a battered fedora pulled over his eyes. His suitcase was under – _Rise_ – his brown suitcase was under his feet. Joanna stared at him.

She had been so surprised to find that the teacher of the Archeology class was the world-renowned Henry Jones, Jr. That man in the hat, the man that misspelled words on the chalkboard and peered thoughtfully at the world through those big eyeglasses, was the same archeologist that, through years of study and planning, had discovered the Ark of the Covenant! That man had collected hundreds of artifacts – and how? Joanna thought she knew. Joanna _did_ know: Professor Jones was an intellectual, a cautious man who thought things through before acting, who would have been a loving and nurturing father to any daughter he might have had. He wouldn't have made her scrape for an education.

The fat man finally seemed asleep. The rise and fall of his belly was even deeper than before. Joanna finally let herself drift off.

* * *

Dietzbruck had to pretend to be asleep to get the annoying girl to stop leaning over him. When he was sure every passenger he could see was unconscious, he whistled quietly. After a few moments, he was rewarded by five more whistles; he gripped his coat around his body and stood at the same time as the rest of his squad of spies. Untucking his shirt, he distributed several guns to the men. The clothes didn't fit him without the firearms underneath them. At a gesture from him, two men slithered to the door to the cockpit; the rest pulled on parachutes before spreading around the seats filled with Americans. One more whistle, and the guns were cocked and aimed. One more whistle, and the job would be done.

The professor murmured in his sleep.

END OF CHAPTER TWO

Review! I don't know if anyone's reading!


	3. Pinstripe and Punishment

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Not yet.

Reviewers! I love you guys:

Kelsey Estel – Thanks for checking this one out. Glad you likes. And you made me laugh. Just thinking about his expression…

This chapter… is much more intense than anything I've ever written. So, if you really hate blood or something, skip the rest of the stuff in the plane. Actually, that wouldn't do any good. Ye be warned.

CHAPTER THREE

Indiana woke to the clicking of a dozen guns. His first thought, _oh great they've found me,_ was replaced immediately by_ no way could anyone be here I'm on a field trip._ Opening his eyes, he regretted his second thought instantly. It had probably jinxed the whole thing. From under the brim of his hat, he could see, quite clearly, a pair of grey pinstriped pants – and a revolver, pointed right at his chest.

Indiana kept _very_ still.

A voice sounded from somewhere above the pinstripes. An accented, German voice. "This Professor Jones would sleep through a bomb, eh? I thought he was s'posed to be 'almost impossible to catch.'"

"Be quiet!"

Indiana's thoughts were racing. If there were at least two of them, and only one was in his line of sight, he would probably get shot as soon as he tried to move. And if a man was standing over him with a gun, the other passengers of the plane were asleep, dead, or Nazi scum–

The kids.

Oh, sh—… But this is no time for loud thoughts, Indy, think.

Pistol, whip, shut up, brain, those are in the briefcase, briefcase… Okay, disarm Pinstripe, then – how many are there? Five or six passengers besides the kids, and maybe the pilots (that one's happened before), but where are they?

Murmuring and shifting slightly, to give himself a view around the cabin, Indy started counting. There were three men in addition to Pinstripe, and two more by the cockpit. He christened them Door 1, Door 2, Beard, Hat and Baggy. Baggy was fat when he got on the plane… Guns. Baggy had the guns. And two men guarding the door of the cockpit meant that the pilots were _not_ Nazis. Alright, let's go.

Indy mumbled again, and let his head drop onto the shoulder of the student next to him. His hat fell off. The young man, Gerry, woke with a bit of a start, blinked, and looked down at his teacher. One of Indy's eyes was open.

The professor mouthed, "Scream. Scream like a girl." Gerry raised an eyebrow. "Nazis with guns, scream, wake everyone up."

Gerry, being a stout-hearted guy for such a nerd, looked up at Pinstripe, who was leering in a very evil kind of way, back down at the 'sleeping' professor, back at Pinstripe, and screamed, "AAAAHHHHHH!" in a rather fake tone. It did the job.

Within seconds the whole cabin was filled with screaming girls and boys. Pinstripe looked around wildly, giving Indy the chance to:

A. Kick him in the shins (thus knocking him over);

B. Unfasten his own seat belt;

C. Disarm and knock out Pinstripe;

D. Put on his hat again;

E. Haul Pinstripe's floppy body to its feet;

F. Realize that Pinstripe-Body was wearing a parachute. They were going to jump ship/plane as soon as everyone was dead, so they must be over land, or close to it;

G. Use Pinstripe-Body's gun to kill Door 1, who had noticed the struggle;

And so on. Indiana whirled around, shot Beard, used Pinstripe-Body to block two bullets from Hat, shot Hat, and froze.

Baggy fired a round into another screaming girl. And another.

Indy found his breath. Grabbing his briefcase from the floor, he hurled it as hard as possible at the Nazi. The beast staggered, turned towards him, raised its gun –

Indy shot it. He shot it again. He shot it another time, and would have shot it right out of the world if he could, but he was out of bullets. The sounds of gunfire didn't stop yet, though.

Door 2 emerged from the cockpit door, covered in blood but unharmed. Indy charged into him, dropping Pinstripe's empty revolver, and pummeled the stunned gunman into unconsciousness, and past it, with his bare hands.

He stopped when he finally realized what he was doing. He was wasting time.

"Do the best you can for them. I'm going to get us on the ground."

The silent college students watched him tramp into the cockpit. Through the door, they saw him pull the body out of the pilot's seat, tug his hat firmly on his head, and lower himself determinably into the blood-soaked chair.

"At least they didn't dump the fuel this time."

* * *

Joanna and Haley were dead by the time they pounded into the ground minutes later. 

None of the students really knew what to do for Georgia. Some of the boys took off their shirts to use for bandages – they were in Africa, anyway – but all they could do besides that was talk to her.

Professor Jones lurched out of the cockpit. His mad adrenaline rush had long since worn off, and nobody had eaten in nearly eight hours. Everyone was exhausted. He made his way through the aisle back to the conglomerate of anxious teenagers.

"Let me see them." His student lowered their heads as they let him pass. He looked over Joanna and Haley, but didn't linger long on their bodies. The bullet had hit Georgia in the stomach, but the wound was not as bad as it could have been; the gush of blood was already slowing. Indiana managed to wake her up. Or, nearly wake her. She looked at the worried faces of her classmates with half-conscious but coherent eyes.

"Georgia, you've gotta stay awake. Just don't… don't fall asleep if you can. Does anyone have any water?"

"I brought a bottle, Profess."

"Try to clean her up." Indiana's head was drooping. "I'll try to figure out where we are." He stumbled to his feet.

"Could I come with you, Professor Jones?" Gerry asked. Indy just nodded his assent, and continued his walk towards the door. Gerry looked back at the other college students, then at his teacher, and hurried after him.

END OF CHAPTER THREE


	4. Few more days, please

Alright, I'm a real jerk for doing this to you. My computer dies once and I ignore my stories for a month. I feel bad. I just have to tell you right now that the next chapters for both The Truth of all Demons and The Union of Occupations are coming along, and that I'm really very sorry for letting them drop. I got lazy, and that's no reason to leave all of you and myself hanging. Please check back soon, I'm hoping to have both chapters ready to go by Sunday or Mondayat the latest.

I'm an idiot. Both of my ficsground to a haltmore suspensful spots than usual.

Sincerest apologies,

STIG


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